Uriel stood in front of the Christmas tree, surveying it with a critical eye. The decorations of wide range made the corners of his mouth lip up and shake his head in mild amusement. There definitely were some really interesting beings inhabiting this Manor.
Near the back of the tree he spotted two tiny ornament angels. They were different from the little celestial warriors scattered all around the tree -- courtesy of Michael, no doubt -- and resembled very much two angels he knew very well. What was most interesting about, though, was the fact that the angels were sitting very close to each other -- and they were holding hands. Very interesting, indeed. He had to find out just what was going on between those two.
For a moment he thought about it, then reached a hand into his pocket. From there he drew a handful of small icons -- hand-painted by himself, of course -- and hung them all around the tree. The pictures were all painted with bright colours and with golden decorations all around. Besides the Holy Family, there were several angels, including all the four archangels. After a moment of thinking, he placed the ones for Michael and Raphael rather close to each other. Close, as in, almost touching each other. If anybody asked anything, he could always blame Michael for starting it all.
Then he glanced to his side, where a pile of rather similar-shaped packages waited patiently to be placed under the tree. Every one of them was wrapped in the same deep green paper with a white ribbon and the name of the recipient written with silvery ink. There was one for every angel currently in the Manor -- except for himself, of course -- although one was addressed to both Aziraphale and his dear demon, and there was one for Belial, as well -- basically one for everybody he could claim to somehow know. This was the thing he liked most about Christmas, aside from the fact that His Presence was then even stronger than usually. Most of the humans' Christmas nowadays was just unacceptable -- Gluttony and Greed and Sloth all wrapped together. However, this was certainly something he could approve of. Giving, unselfishness, was certainly true to the nature of Christmas.
Of course, his presents were personalized. More specifically, he'd drawn a portrait of each of the recipients -- the one that Aziraphale and Crowley got had them both, of course. He'd seen the demon briefly and could admit that while he still didn't quite understand the point of making an effort, Aziraphale could have certainly chosen a worse being to make it for. He had painted pretty much all the time he'd spent in his room. Being an angel, he didn't have to sleep or wait for the paint to dry to add another layer, which had certainly helped him significantly in his mission of getting all his presents ready in a reasonable amount of time.
After placing his presents underneath the tree, he nodded, satisfied. Then he turned around and left the room, quietly humming to himself.
"Hark, the herald angels sing, Glory to the newborn King..."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2005-12-23 11:42 pm (UTC)Near the back of the tree he spotted two tiny ornament angels. They were different from the little celestial warriors scattered all around the tree -- courtesy of Michael, no doubt -- and resembled very much two angels he knew very well. What was most interesting about, though, was the fact that the angels were sitting very close to each other -- and they were holding hands. Very interesting, indeed. He had to find out just what was going on between those two.
For a moment he thought about it, then reached a hand into his pocket. From there he drew a handful of small icons -- hand-painted by himself, of course -- and hung them all around the tree. The pictures were all painted with bright colours and with golden decorations all around. Besides the Holy Family, there were several angels, including all the four archangels. After a moment of thinking, he placed the ones for Michael and Raphael rather close to each other. Close, as in, almost touching each other. If anybody asked anything, he could always blame Michael for starting it all.
Then he glanced to his side, where a pile of rather similar-shaped packages waited patiently to be placed under the tree. Every one of them was wrapped in the same deep green paper with a white ribbon and the name of the recipient written with silvery ink. There was one for every angel currently in the Manor -- except for himself, of course -- although one was addressed to both Aziraphale and his dear demon, and there was one for Belial, as well -- basically one for everybody he could claim to somehow know.
This was the thing he liked most about Christmas, aside from the fact that His Presence was then even stronger than usually. Most of the humans' Christmas nowadays was just unacceptable -- Gluttony and Greed and Sloth all wrapped together. However, this was certainly something he could approve of. Giving, unselfishness, was certainly true to the nature of Christmas.
Of course, his presents were personalized. More specifically, he'd drawn a portrait of each of the recipients -- the one that Aziraphale and Crowley got had them both, of course. He'd seen the demon briefly and could admit that while he still didn't quite understand the point of making an effort, Aziraphale could have certainly chosen a worse being to make it for. He had painted pretty much all the time he'd spent in his room. Being an angel, he didn't have to sleep or wait for the paint to dry to add another layer, which had certainly helped him significantly in his mission of getting all his presents ready in a reasonable amount of time.
After placing his presents underneath the tree, he nodded, satisfied. Then he turned around and left the room, quietly humming to himself.
"Hark, the herald angels sing,
Glory to the newborn King..."